Remembering Through Kwak’wala

Elder Margaret Wilson is a retired nurse, an author, and holds a PhD in education from the University of British Columbia. She shares how she lived a traditional life with her grandparents until she was five, then was forced into residential school, and almost lost her language. But with grit and determination, Margaret held onto it and is a fluent speaker today.

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Multiple Speakers [00:00:00] [cheerful electronic music] Sim gigyat, Sigidim Haanak’, K’ubawilxsihlxw. Oki, wishing you good life. Kuei! Kuei! Yo! Wik’sas. Dánet'e, negha dágǫ́ht’e.

Announcer [00:00:14] This is Words and Culture, a series on Indigenous languages funded by SiriusXM through the Community Radio Fund of Canada and distributed by Native Voice One, The Native American Radio Network. [music fades out]

Suzette Amaya [00:00:31] G̱ilakas'la. Yo! Wik’sas? Nugwa'a̱m Suzette Amaya. Gayutła̱n lax̱a GwaSala dlu Nisga’a, Coast Salish dlu Cree.

I'm so excited to spend time with an Elder from the Tsax̱is community, also known to many as Fort Rupert, the traditional home of the Kwaguʼł people.

This community holds such a special place in my heart. During my teen years in Port Hardy, living in Tsulquate, I spent much of my time in Tsax̱is playing soccer for the Tsax̱is Women's Team. I wore that jersey with so much pride, travelling to practices and tournaments, and many of the friendships I built there remain some of my closest to this day.

Tsax̱is is also where I experienced my very first potlatch. It is where I began learning our cultural protocols, witnessing our songs and dances, and gaining a deeper understanding of the beauty and responsibility of our potlatch traditions.

The community itself is breathtaking. The one place where I return to whenever I need to reconnect and find stillness. There’s a place that no one can even imagine and that’s this place. It’s a total paradise.

In my University years I studied anthropology as my double major, one of the first histories I encountered was the work of anthropologist Franz Boas and George Hunt a Łingít-Canadian linguist and ethnologist who had married into the Kwaguʼł Nation.  In the 1880s they documented the language, stories, ceremonies, and regalia of the Kwaguʼł people during a time when our culture was under attack through colonial policies like the potlatch ban. While those records preserved valuable pieces of history, today we also just really recognize our great teachers who’ve always been our Elders and Knowledge Keepers, whose voices continue to guide the revitalization of our language and culture.

Margaret Wilson lives in Tsax̱is, home of the Kwagu’ł Nation, who are part of the larger Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw Nation, whose name means, “The Kwak̓wala-Speaking Peoples.” Margaret is a retired registered nurse. And just eight short years ago, she graduated from the University of BC with a doctorate in education to focus on health.

But it wasn’t an easy journey getting there. She was in danger of losing her Kwak̓wala language altogether. Like many of our people, Margaret was forced off to residential school.

She still remembers the first five years of her life in living a traditional lifestyles with her grandparents. And to hear her tell it, sounds so magical.

Margaret Wilson [00:03:33] (introduces self in Kwak̓wala)

My name is Margaret Wilson, (speaks in Kwak̓wala) and I'm from here, Fort Rupert. I lived with my grandparents in the village of Kalugwis, Turnour Island, yeah. And I was about 18 months old when my grandparents took me. I was born in Alert Bay and then raised for a little bit of time here in southeast Fort Rupert. And then my grandparents – then I grew up in Turnour Island. And I grew with them.

That's obviously what was spoken to us in Kwak̓wala. And I've always known Kwak̓wala just as being Kwak̓wala and not so much Bak̓wa̱mk̓ala. Just recently I've been asked, “What's the difference?”

Although some people just say because we're Kwagu’ł that Kwak̓wala is spoken by the Kwagu’ł, but seems like we all speak the same. They all sound the same, so – but at times I will say Bak̓wa̱mk̓ala when I'm somewhere else. But yeah, I grew up speaking Kwak̓wala. That was my first language.

Suzette Amaya [00:04:51] When did you first hear English?

Margaret Wilson [00:04:54] I first learned English when I was taken to the residential school, when I was five. And of course when we got there we weren't allowed to, you know, speak our language, but it's all I knew so obviously we slipped once in a while. And even then, at a young age, I remember being punished for that. And then my grandparents came to visit me probably two months later to see how I was doing.

And by that time my braids that were down to my waist were combed out, cut, and cut across, and issued little government pink glasses and – oh, I was now in a uniform. So they were looking for me and couldn't find me and I’m waving at them and so, yeah, and I couldn't even say hi to them. I'm like, “Yo! Yo!” (laughs)

You know, so it was really hard.

It was there that I learned – had to learn English. And I guess, just like Kwak̓wala, I mean, it's different. I grew up learning Kwak̓wala as a child learns to speak any language, you know, to observe, listen and watch.

Suzette Amaya [00:06:02] When you came out of residential school and you went back to your community, what was it like having to be in a community in Turnour Island? Around Kwak̓wala and then?

Margaret Wilson [00:06:13] When I got home, that – I started feeling alienated and I was being treated differently even – and then that was a very scary, traumatic feeling to go back home. Because I was – looked forward to going back home from the residential school but now, knowing that I was treated a little bit different now, because I am different by that time. And so that was the bit that was sad, you know.

Every summer, my grandparents would go and get me to go home. And that's when I was allowed home, July and August, and then returned in the beginning of September. So – and then during the summer months when I went home, it was always a lot of fun and we're always busy, whether it was picking berries, beach combing, hen net fishing down the dock, and clam digging, raking up crabs down the beach, you name and it would just – just fun because everything we needed was right there in our village.

Suzette Amaya [00:07:16] And whereabouts is Turnour Island? For people to imagine where your homeland is.

Margaret Wilson [00:07:23] I'm not sure of the exact location, but it's probably about an hour and a half from Alert Bay on a fast boat. Yeah, my grandpa's boat was a very putt-putt-putt. Took us three hours, it was a little slow, Little East Hope.

I write about Kalugwis. I'm just going to have a book published. I've written 18 stories about – short stories, and what I write about is all the homes in Kalugwis, all the boats. Everybody had a boat. We were self-sustaining. There was berries, fruit, orchards. People had orchards and gardens, and of course down the beach my Granny would just say, in Kwak̓wala, “We should have crab for supper or, you know, so take the rake and pail, go down the beach and just get maybe six crab.”

But wow, that was such a specialty to be able to just go down a beach and get what you wanted. So we had – food-wise, we had everything.

Sometimes with my grandfather, we'd go on a boat to the nearby islands in the winter, like, November, December, and go with him and go clam dig. Yeah, and then summertime, my grandmother – I would literally roll from one village to pretty well close to New Vancouver Island.

And then boats would stop and then tow us the rest of the way and we'd go join the other elderly women in New Van and then over to Village Island.And I remember all the elderly women picking berries. Tubs, not a little bucket full of huckleberries, but would be big pails and fill it up and then go home and dump it into a big tub and then fill it with water.

And then all the leaves would come floating up and that's how they cleaned the huckleberries. And then sometimes they'd put a wet sheet on a board and then roll the huckleberries down it. So the huckleberries rolled down, but just all the leaves stayed on a wet sheet.

But, everybody – and I write about how everybody owned a boat and so everybody went fishing, clam digging trips, visit to Alert Bay on our boats, and beachcombing. We did everything with our boats.

And I would travel to a place called Minstrel Island and it was called Gwa’sut’sa. “Glah-suh-s’toy.”

Suzette Amaya [00:09:59] “Glah-suh-s’toy.”

Margaret Wilson [00:10:00] “Glah-suh-s’toy.” Yeah.

Suzette Amaya [00:10:02] “Glah-suh?”

Margaret Wilson [00:10:03] Yeah. “Glah.”

Suzette Amaya [00:10:04] “Glah.”

Margaret Wilson [00:10:04] Yeah. “Glah-suh-s’toy.”

Suzette Amaya [00:10:05] “Suh-s’toy.”

Margaret Wilson [00:10:06] And it would take us about a couple of hours to get there every month. And we went there to check our mail and to get gas for the boat and buy groceries.

So – and it was a monthly – a month-end thing when the old people got there. At that time, I think it was called relief, like a month-end allowance, yeah.

I think there was 22 boats, there was 23 homes, 27 buildings, counting the church, the school, and a community hall. And I remember it exactly, because it's in my stories. And so everybody helped one another, supported one another, and really respected and cared for each other. Yeah, I don't recall any stress in a village and I write in my stories about, you know, we were so self-sustaining and we didn't have to rely on anybody. We had everything we needed in the village.

And summer, we always attended a Bible school. And non-Indigenous women would come and we really enjoyed Bible school, there was lots of crafts and memory – memorizing Bible verses and eating different food with them. Yeah, and games. We played a lot of games. All the games were outdoors. Yeah.

Suzette Amaya [00:11:31] When you're living that life, and I love that you're saying that everyone was, like, taking care of each other and you're traveling together and living off the land. Language was a big part of your communication and a part of everyday life.

Margaret Wilson [00:11:46] Mmhm, it was. And then so when people talk about us being so closely language-connected to land, and I look back and think back at my stories and my lived experiences, my whole life, and I think, “That's true.” You know, the language was spoken and everything involved, the land, the ocean, the air, travels, everything involved the language and it really did connect us to our lands. Yeah, a close connection, definitely. Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:12:21] Through your life, then after residential school, did you slowly start seeing people be – speaking more English and less Kwak̓wala? And what was that like?

Margaret Wilson [00:12:32] Mmhm. I finished grade six in Alert Bay and then somebody in their wisdom in the government decided I can be returned to my village where they removed me from the classroom of day one of kindergarten when I was five. So I was now returned for grade seven and eight in the very same classroom – one-room classroom.

It did feel really different for me to be just speaking, you know, English every day and I kept myself trying to speak English to my grandparents. Of course, I'd get in trouble.

Every summer when I got home, my Granny noticed that. She'd say, “Oh you're forgetting now.”

You know, and I'd make a mistake. We always greeted the boats that came – pulled up into our village. And this time it was a couple that had a few kids.

And so we were going – she sent us to go and greet them and, “Go look at the new baby. Tell us what the new Baby looks like.”

So we went, and then we came back. She asked me, “'Wiksux̱w da baby?”

And I said, “habits all be dope.”

And she said, “Babies are not haba'xsux̱.” She said, “A little kitty cat is haba'xsux̱, but a baby, a sixaux̱.” So she said, “You're – that’s not a good place that you're going to. You're forgetting our language now.” Yeah, so she was correcting me.

And another time, well, she said, “What were you playing?”

I said, “Oh, we were xwat’sa̱’mp̓a.”

“Why would you be doing that?” She said, “That’s not good.”

And I said, “Oh, we were hitting each other.” But what I meant to say, “Hitting a ball.”

Yeah, so she noticed right away. She said, “Time for you to come home.” She said. Yeah. (laughs)

So, it was quite different learning or speaking English again in my village at the school, yeah. And then to top it off, in grade seven, I was the only one in grade seven. And eight. And then I was introduced to the blue book, the French. To speak French. Oh, my parents were mad and couldn't understand, “Why are they teaching you that?” Yeah. And he was from the Netherlands, the teacher. So he had a real accent trying to teach me French.

Suzette Amaya [00:14:51] I can't believe that they brought French after being in residential school. They brought French to a small community.

Margaret Wilson [00:14:58] Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:14:59] And you had to learn it and–

Margaret Wilson [00:15:02] Whether they planned that as part of erasing us or, you know.

Suzette Amaya [00:15:06] I'm just imagining what it was like in your village throughout the time when, you know, you must have been so grateful when you reflect back that the people within your home were speaking Kwak̓wala. They were holding strong to the language.

Margaret Wilson [00:15:22] Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:15:23] And then as you grow older, you must have seen that slowly English was coming into the village and less Kwak̓wala being spoken.

Margaret Wilson [00:15:31] I was only there for grade seven and eight, and then so – but we all was Kwak̓wa̱kola. Means, “Kwak̓wala with each other.” As students, as friends, and up in the school. Because after grade eight, I thought that was it, and so did my grandparents. I said, “Once you're done up the school, you're completed. You call it la'a̱mt̕so when you graduate, you've completed it.”

But only to find out, end of August, we went back to Gwa’sut’sa to check the mail. And there was a brown envelope there with a window, and we knew always what a government envelope – what a mail looked like.

So my Granny told me to open it and read it to them. And it was really sad. They told me I had to go back to Alert Bay again and meet at the government dock in Alert Bay, which is by the old hospital. And I'd be joining about five or seven other students, and that would be sent to Vancouver area to go to school.

Yeah, so I didn't stay in – college was very long and hadn’t chance to speak our language very much. And I left again.

Yeah, and we got to Alert Bay and a ferry took us from Alert Bay to Kelsey Bay. And then we were bussed down to Vancouver. We didn't know what to expect. “Where are we going?” And then there was my really good girlfriend Mary Mako. She became a registered nurse as well.

And we were all on a ferry going – a four-hour trip from Alert Bay to Kelsey Bay. And that was our first time we weren't being supervised. There was nobody there and we thought, “This is crazy, there’s nobody here supervising us.” And yeah, we had fun (laughs) on the ferry from – we had fun while we could from the Alert Bay to Kelsey Bay.

And then we boarded the bus and were taken to Vancouver. There might've been ten, twelve of us, maybe? Maybe. But they were from villages of Alert Bay, Gilford Island and Kingcome Inlet.

Yeah, so we got to Vancouver Bus Depot, I guess that's what it was called. We got there and they just said – they informed us, “Once you get there, we will call your names and that's who you're gonna go with.” So when my name was called, I went with a lady named Mrs. Appleby. Can't get more English than that.

They called me with another girl. Her last name was Wilson too. So we got paired to her day and night, her and I. But we got put in the same home in Abbotsford. Downtown Abbotsford. It was just crazy about that.

And you can imagine how I felt, like, coming from our little village and never been to Vancouver. Didn't even know what Vancouver looked like. I thought it was just over the mountain and – so she told us, “Get in the car.” And we both got in a back seat and it was in the evening. It was night. It seemed like we drove and drove and I thought, “Where are we going now, I wonder.”

Yeah, and it was to Abbotsford. And got settled in her home. It was so different from my home in my little village (laughs) and then been institutionalized for all those years. Yeah, it was a different – very different home.

So I stayed there for two years. And then the next two years, grade eleven and twelve, they put me out on a farm in Chilliwack. Mmhm. But this time with three other girls, so that was kind of good. One from Nanaimo. And one from Guilford, ON. One from Kingcome and myself.

And then allowed home again during the summer. But one summer I wasn't allowed home between grade eleven and twelve. And they got me a job. It was kind of scary to work in – it was called a Fraservale cannery. There was frozen foods and vegetables.

And my other job was working for Minter Gardens out in Chilliwack. And all I did was – I felt like somebody's selling popcorn. I had a little box tied there and there was just elastic bands. Rows and rows of – a massive greenhouse full of carnations. And all they did was banding all day long (laughs) so they wouldn't bloom too quickly. It controlled how they bloomed. That was one of my jobs.

The other one was picking green beans and filling up the sacks. That seemed to take forever, so I didn't like that one at all.

And what happened? The whole idea of them sending us down there, apparently, was to go to school. And then my grandpa, my ma̱sdzis, he passed away when I wasn't quite finished grade twelve. And I got a phone call one day and we were sitting there on the table on the farm and, yeah, she actually told me there was a phone call for me and my first phone call in all the years I was down there.

So they were just asking, my family, “Why didn't you come home? He passed away two weeks ago.”

And told him, “I didn't know.”

And so I went upstairs to my room and the next morning she knocked on my door and said, “It's time for you to go to school and catch the bus.”

And I said, “I'm not going today.” I said, “I'm feeling sad for my grandfather.”

“Well, we will just phone the superintendent and get them to fly you home tomorrow if you're not going to school today.”

“I guess so,” I said. And I was flown home the next day. So it's ironic that I never graduated, but I went on to university to get one different. Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:21:27] He holds so much strength and resilience. I can't imagine what it was like leaving home at the age of five and then you really didn't get to return home-home until you were, like, you know, later on in grade eleven.

Margaret Wilson [00:21:42] Oh, and that – I never did go back to my village after me finishing grade eight because – and the reason for that was when I got returned home, I got as far as Alert Bay only to find out that our village stopped the Columbia Coast Mission by bringing the medical and medications and a doctor.

This the government stopped that and they also shut down our school. So that forced the other students out of there. And they shut down – yeah, so when I was sent home only to find out my grandmother lived in a – there it was, like, a fourplex but they were small and just plywood walls.

Moving into that from our home in Kalugwis, in Turner Island, we had an orchard, our chicken coop, smokehouse, own private dock. We had everything that we needed and now we had no running water, no toilet. The rent was $20 a month.

Suzette Amaya [00:22:55] Oh my, you've really seen it all, where you've seen our people living our own way. So resilient and self-determined, living off the land, happy, taking care of each other, to the government really taking our children and then dismantling your own community.

Margaret Wilson [00:23:11] Mmhm. It literally was just shut down. And there's no one there now, and then it's all overgrown, and all the houses, 23 homes, and the church, school, and community hall have slowly collapsed.

Suzette Amaya [00:23:26] That's like when I go back to Giga'ak, to our Takush, in Smith Inlet for the GwaSala people. When the government came and burnt down our village. It's just all overgrown now.

Margaret Wilson [00:23:38] Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:23:39] You know, and it's sad that – I don't think people really know the extent of how the government really tried to erase us of who we are.

Margaret Wilson [00:23:48] Mmhm. Yeah, and I still believe it's happening today by – it's scary, like, most – I think most funding for languages comes from FPCC, the First Peoples Cultural Council in Victoria. Like, they look after – it seems to. And then when they send out newsletters or whatever to say, “There's limited funding this year.”

And I'm like, “Yeah, right, just trying to erase us again, doing whatever they can just to.” Yeah, I really believe that just – there's so many ways and that's why downtown Eastside exists and all those that are incarcerated. I mean, I did a lot of research when I did my thesis for my doctorate at UBC. And 75-80% of our people live in the cities.

Suzette Amaya [00:24:39] Mmhm.

Margaret Wilson [00:24:40] Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:24:41] Yeah, it was very strategic, for sure. You can see that throughout the history. I’d love for you to share, you know, coming away from your community and then going – I can't imagine what it was like going from Turnour Island to Abbotsford and Chilliwack. It's such a huge contrast.

Margaret Wilson [00:25:00] Mmhm.

Suzette Amaya [00:25:01] But throughout all that experience, you've maintained being a fluent speaker in Kwak̓wala. How was that? Like, because you've seen your own community when you returned, like, not the way it was before.

Margaret Wilson [00:25:16] Mmhm. I'm often surprised and more amazed at how my language, how I was able to – how I'm able to speak my language today. I'm trying to think back. When I first started, I think with – might have been with Peewee, about eight, nine years ago. And she was working at the T’łisalagilakw School. And she said, “Auntie, you should come work with me.”

So I went to work and then, yeah, I was just amazed at what I could remember. And I think most of all, what brings language back to me and is easy for me to bring back is the memories. The memories are so vivid they're so – and that's all I can think of my memories are in Kwak̓wala. How I lived and grew up and it's a really amazing way of remembering things is through the language.

Suzette Amaya [00:26:18] (narrating) I just love how Margaret Wilson has just kept moving forward in her life and learning. She has never let colonization get the better of her and she has used it to hold onto her language and culture and teach other Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw to do the same.

Margaret embodies the resilience and the humility of her ancestors. Her commitment to preserving her language, sharing her culture, and carrying forward the teachings of her people reflects the legacy of those who came before her. Spending time with her wasn't simply an interview. It was a gift. A reminder that our history is alive, that every Elder who shares their story helps ensure that future generations will continue to know who they are and where we come from.

I’m Suzette Amaya, your host for the Kwakwa̱ka̱’wakw episodes of Words and Culture. G̱ilakas'la, thank you. And ha̱lakas'la, good bye.

Announcer [00:27:26] [cheerful electronic music] Words and Culture is made possible with funding from SiriusXM, through the Community Radio Fund of Canada. It is distributed through Native Voice One, The Native American Radio Network. Words and Culture is produced by Kim Wheeler. Kaylen Belair is our audio engineer and editor.

Multiple Speakers [00:27:46] Hamiyaa. Yammi! K’achu naohdá nǫ́. Ha̱lakas'la. Kitakitamaatsinyo’pau, we’ll see you later. [music fades out]